


Late November air

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Nightmare, Nightmare, heehoo, introspective, one (1) kiss, they're boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: “You’re so fucking cold,” Kaito murmurs, his lips brushing against Rantaro’s neck when he speaks. Rantaro feels himself smiling.“It’s November,” he returns. His voice sounds raspy and thin, like if the wind was just a touch stronger, it would be blown away. Kaito hears him, though; he always does. “It’s cold outside.”“Like that’s an excuse,” Kaito huffs, and Rantaro lets out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand and feeling him squirm a little, grumbling into his skin.---Rantaro steps onto the balcony to catch some fresh air after a nightmare.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Momota Kaito
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Late November air

Rantaro’s breath comes from his lips in wispy puffs. Every inhalation tastes like smog, like exhaust and bitterness, and the air is dry and cold. The sky is a solid sheet of dark grey with the clouds overhead. The digital clock on his nightstand told him it’s just past two in the morning. Back when Rantaro was a kid, he lived in his father’s manor in the wealthy part of Tokyo, and the nights would be pierced with pink and blue lights. It was pretty in the way that the Milky Way Galaxy above the beach at Puerto Princesa wasn’t. (Not that the Milky Way has ever been anything less than breathtaking.)

Since getting disowned, though, Rantaro’s cruddy job at the hair salon three miles out has barely been enough for him to afford an apartment out here in the slums. No pinks and blues, only ragged old apartment complexes with ragged old people to match.

It’s… different, from what he’s used to. But it’s not bad. Rantaro prefers it to the Amami Manor, anyway. That house was always so full, but it had this way of making everything feel so lonely. Maybe because it was so large. Rantaro felt like he could yell down the hallway from his bedroom door and his voice would echo but nobody would hear him. His apartment now is so small that no matter where he is in it, or what he’s saying or doing, his boyfriend is going to hear him.

…

The glass door to their balcony clicks shut behind Rantaro, and he closes his eyes, breathing in more exhaust. Kaito’s slippers make faint padding noises on the floor, but Rantaro still hears them. There aren’t enough cars in this neighbourhood at this time of night for the sound to be drowned out, and despite the fact that it’s getting closer and closer to winter (and accordingly the days are turning more grey and the air is tasting more bitter), the wind is weak and quiet.

Besides, Rantaro would hear him anyway.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but when Kaito curls his arms around his waist from behind, he leans back into the touch, tilting his head to rest it on Kaito’s shoulder, as though it’s a pillow. He’s soft enough, anyhow. Despite the quiet Rantaro feels rather than hears the low chuckle that hums through Kaito’s chest. He’s awfully warm. Up until Kaito came out to embrace him, Rantaro hadn’t realised how cold he was, standing out here in one of Kaito’s old JAXA t-shirts and boxers, his socks mismatched and loose around his ankles. He doesn’t want to say anything (and he trusts Kaito to break the silence), so instead he just lets out a quiet hum, shifting one of his hands from the cold railing to rest on top of Kaito’s.

“You’re so fucking cold,” Kaito murmurs, his lips brushing against Rantaro’s neck when he speaks. Rantaro feels himself smiling.

“It’s November,” he returns. His voice sounds raspy and thin, like if the wind was just a touch stronger, it would be blown away. Kaito hears him, though; he always does. “It’s cold outside.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” Kaito huffs, and Rantaro lets out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand and feeling him squirm a little, grumbling into his skin. Honestly, though, Rantaro was cold already, and Kaito is like one of those beanie babies you can put in the microwave and heat up to simulate human warmth. Except that he’s warm like that  _ all the time  _ and it is emphatically unfair.

Er, unfair for  _ other  _ people, that is. Not for Rantaro, who gets to leech off that comforting warmth whenever he needs it. Kaito would probably pout at him for the wording, but. That’s just how it feels at times. Especially right now. Rantaro lets out a breath, slumping a little. He opens his eyes and looks at the blank sky. He almost forgot why he came out here.

Kaito hums, another vibration that Rantaro feels against his back, and then, “Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Rantaro utters.

“One of the usuals?”

“Yeah,” Rantaro says again, peering at the clouds through his lashes. His hand shakes a little, where it’s closed over Kaito’s, and he feels it when Kaito shifts to sandwich it between both of his. Rantaro lets out an uneven breath. Kaito is so  _ warm.  _ “Just… mmm. Y’know. You. And me. We’re together and we’re happy.”

“And then we’re not?” Kaito guesses, softly.

“And then we’re not,” Rantaro agrees, breathing out. He slumps further against Kaito, to the point where he’s essentially being supported by his boyfriend, and if it were anybody else it would be a problem but he trusts Kaito to keep him standing. “It’s okay, y’know,” he chuckles, “I woke up and you were right there next to me, sleeping, so it didn’t matter.”

“You’re allowed to be shaken up,” Kaito murmurs. Rantaro snorts. “I know you know,” he adds, a bit wryly, and Rantaro can  _ feel  _ him smiling against his neck. “I’m just letting you know you don’t have to dumb down how you feel. If you had to come out here then it was probably a lot.”

“Mmm,” Rantaro closes his eyes. “It’s always a lot, losing you, even if it’s fake.” He squeezes Kaito’s hand, feels Kaito squeeze back, and pauses for a long moment before he says anything else. “It really is okay. I mostly just needed the fresh air.”

“Fresh air,” Kaito repeats, huffing a little. Rantaro laughs. “‘m sorry, serious moment,” he mumbles.

“No, you know I appreciate it,” Rantaro lets out a little sigh. “Maybe we could move to the mountains. Get some  _ real  _ fresh air.”

“Be great for my lungs,” Kaito says.

“Be great for your lungs!” Rantaro repeats, fervently, and grins when he feels Kaito laughing against him.

It’s… a fever dream, really, moving somewhere. They can barely afford to hold onto this apartment. Rantaro could always go kiss his father’s ass and try to get back in his good books again, get himself un-disowned or whatever, but that also means returning to financial dependency on that man, and just, generally having to deal with him. Rantaro doesn’t think he could list anything more unbearable.

With this apartment, it’s… it’s his. He and Kaito paid for it with money that they actually  _ made,  _ and it’s such a filthy capitalist sentiment, being so proud of adding to the problem, to the mess, but it’s… it’s just nice, having something because he worked for it, and not because his father cheated a bunch of new and inexperienced business owners out of their livelihoods. It’s not what Rantaro is used to. And it’s not like he has any sisters left to find; they’re all in places he can reach them, now, whether they’re living in Japan, or comfortably in the places they were lost, so… no real reason, to have to deal with that anymore.

And this isn’t so bad, really. The kitchen is small enough that they bump hips every time they try to bake together, and there’s only one bedroom and only one bathroom, and the water runs cold after ten minutes, and their one couch is old and threadbare, but, they like bumping hips, and they only need one bedroom, and Kaito isn’t big on hot showers anyway, and the couch has personality.

It’s okay. This is okay.

And Rantaro’s nightmare was just a nightmare.

Opening his eyes, he turns around in Kaito’s arms, lifting one of his hands to Kaito’s chin, curling his fingers around it. He quirks his brows, and his lips, in a suggestive smile. Kaito huffs out another laugh.

“That what that silence was about?” Kaito asks, grinning, resting his forehead against Rantaro’s. “Thinking about kissing me?”

“Always,” Rantaro says promptly, and then giggles. “Maybe a little bit about how I love you, too.”

Kaito’s eyes crinkle at the edges. The sky and the streets out here are grey and the trees are bare and the power lines are droopy. But Kaito’s eyes are a vivid lilac, and full of life, and full of energy, even now, when the sun isn’t even close to coming up over the horizon. Rantaro could stare into them for hours. He just might, actually, at the risk of reaching gay level: critical.

Whatever. They’re already here, anyway.

“Well,” Kaito smiles, “lucky for you,” he rubs their noses together, eyes half-lidding, “I happen to love you also.”

“Yeah,” Rantaro breathes out, “lucky for me.”

The late November air tastes bitter. But Kaito’s lips taste sweet. It’s not a bad contrast. Rantaro breathes out into the kiss, closes his eyes, and lets the remaining tension from his nightmare melt away.

**Author's Note:**

> bet y'all thought i was dead
> 
> (i'm not, just. roleplaying. a lot. it's very time consuming!!!)
> 
> toxic crawls out of the aether to put an amamota oneshot at ur feet and then turns into mist again
> 
> follow me on tumbler @toxicisnotapineapple if u wanna actually know i'm alive LMAO
> 
> i have 71 comments in my inbox [sweats] i swear i'll replyto them soon
> 
> ily all hope you enjoyed these FUCKING boys


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